Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
The person outside my office knocked once.
Nobody moved.
Not me.
Not Claire.
Not Marcus.
The three of us stared at the glass door.
Waiting.
The second knock came slower.
Deliberate.
Like whoever was standing outside already knew we were afraid.
Marcus immediately reached inside his jacket.
I noticed the movement.
"Don't."
My voice stopped him.
He looked at me.
"Mr. Mercer—"
"No weapons."
His expression hardened.
"That person could be dangerous."
I looked at the door.
"So could everyone in this room."
The words surprised even me.
But after everything I had discovered in the last hour, I couldn't ignore the possibility anymore.
The person who had stolen millions from my company.
The person who had hidden my father's investigation.
The person who knew about Thomas Mercer.
Could be anyone.
Including someone I trusted.
The door opened.
Slowly.
My assistant Rachel stepped inside.
Her face was pale.
"Mr. Mercer?"
I watched her carefully.
"How long have you been outside?"
She froze.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
A tiny hesitation.
"I just arrived."
Marcus looked at me.
I didn't say anything.
Rachel noticed Claire.
Her expression changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
"Who is she?"
Claire stood straighter.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Rachel looked away.
That was enough.
I walked toward my desk.
"Rachel."
She looked at me.
"Tell me the truth."
Her eyes became glassy.
"I don't know what you mean."
"North Vale Consulting."
Silence.
The color drained from her face.
I didn't need another answer.
She knew.
"How long?"
She swallowed.
"Mr. Mercer..."
"How long have you known?"
She looked down.
"I didn't know everything."
"That's not what I asked."
Her voice became smaller.
"Six months."
My chest tightened.
Six months.
For half a year, money had been leaving my company.
For half a year, people had been disappearing.
For half a year, my closest employees had known something was wrong.
And nobody told me.
"Why?"
Rachel looked at me with tears forming in her eyes.
"Because I was scared."
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
"You work for me."
She nodded.
"I know."
"Then why were you scared of telling me?"
She looked toward the window.
"Because the last person who tried to warn you disappeared."
The room went quiet.
Claire stepped forward.
"Who?"
Rachel didn't answer.
"Who disappeared?"
Rachel looked at her.
Then at me.
"Michael Reeves."
The name hit me again.
My former legal director.
The man who had tried to call me before he vanished.
I felt anger rising.
"You knew what happened to him?"
Rachel shook her head.
"No."
"Then what do you mean?"
She opened her phone with shaking hands.
"I received this three days after he disappeared."
She showed me a message.
A number.
No contact name.
One sentence.
Stop asking questions, or you will be next.
I stared at the screen.
"When did you get this?"
"Six months ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her eyes filled with regret.
"Because the message came with a picture."
She turned the phone around.
My heart stopped.
It was a photo of Rachel leaving her apartment.
Taken from across the street.
Someone had been watching her.
Watching all of them.
"Who sent it?"
"I don't know."
"Then why did you keep working here?"
Her answer was quiet.
"Because quitting would have made them know I understood."
Nobody spoke.
The silence was broken by Claire.
"Rachel."
Everyone looked at her.
"You said Michael Reeves disappeared."
Rachel nodded.
"Yes."
"Did he leave anything behind?"
Rachel hesitated.
That hesitation changed everything.
I stepped closer.
"What did he leave?"
She looked at me.
"A file."
My eyes narrowed.
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"You just said he left a file."
"He gave it to someone."
"Who?"
Rachel looked at Claire.
Then at Marcus.
Then back at me.
"You."
I felt the room shift.
"What?"
"Michael trusted you."
"No, he never gave me anything."
"He tried."
The words stopped me.
"What do you mean?"
Rachel looked down.
"The night before he disappeared, he came to your office."
I remembered.
The missed call.
The message notification.
The meeting I canceled.
"He was here?"
She nodded.
"He waited for almost two hours."
My stomach tightened.
"And I wasn't there."
"No."
"Then what happened?"
Rachel's voice dropped.
"He left the file with your assistant."
I looked at her.
"You?"
She nodded.
"I was supposed to give it to you the next morning."
"But you didn't."
She closed her eyes.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because when I arrived..."
She stopped.
I waited.
"When I arrived, the file was gone."
The room became colder.
"Who took it?"
Rachel looked at me.
"I don't know."
Then Claire spoke.
"You're lying."
Rachel turned.
"What?"
Claire stepped closer.
"You know who took it."
Rachel's face changed.
"How would you know?"
Claire didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled something from her folder.
A small piece of paper.
Old.
Folded.
She placed it on the desk.
"I found this inside my father's notebook."
I picked it up.
Three words were written.
Rachel knows everything.
My eyes moved slowly to my assistant.
Rachel looked terrified.
Not angry.
Not confused.
Terrified.
"Explain."
She didn't speak.
"Rachel."
She stepped backward.
"I never wanted this."
"Wanted what?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"To become the person standing between you and the truth."
Nobody moved.
Then Marcus suddenly looked toward the hallway.
His face changed.
"What?"
I followed his gaze.
The lights outside my office flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every screen on the executive floor turned on.
The televisions.
The monitors.
The digital displays.
All showing the same image.
My father's old company photograph.
Thomas Mercer standing beside another man.
The same man from the message.
The same man I recognized.
But the impossible part wasn't his face.
It was the date underneath the picture.
Because it was taken three years after my father supposedly died.
Claire covered her mouth.
Marcus whispered:
"No..."
I looked at the screen.
The image zoomed in.
The other man's face became clear.
And then a name appeared.
A name I had never expected to see again.
Because the person standing beside my father was...
Rachel's father.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Only breathing.
Slow.
Calm.
Familiar.
Then a voice finally whispered.
"Evan..."
I froze.
Because I knew that voice.
It was impossible.
May you like
It belonged to the man I buried twenty years ago.
My father's voice.
